THE LEGACY OF EROS: DARK SON

CHAPTER ONE

By FinalStand

*Editing magic performed by Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*Is it better to be desired by a thousand, or lusted after by one?*

[PRELUDE]

{Mentat's lab the next day after the events in The Legacy of Eros}

"So what is with this name?" Dr. Richard Reeds aka Mentat questioned.

"Dark Son is sort of self-explanatory ... I'd hope. I'm my Father's Son, and he wasn't a good guy."

"I knew that," Dr. Reeds grinned, looking up from the screen which was relaying information from my latest physical. "I was wondering why you're pursuing a path of vengeance when you don't have to."

"That should be obvious," I sighed. "I've got some scores to settle ... for my parents."

"I was afraid of that," my Godfather and (former) mentor nodded sagely. "I won't even say this isn't what your father and mother would wish for you -- I knew them better than that. What I am saying is do you want to throw your entire life away -- or don't you feel you can be your own man?"

"He has no one else but me," I reasoned. I meant my Father had no one else, but me to help him escape from his prison confinement.

"Well ... you appear to have the ability to mimic the metahuman manifestations of other supers, but this presents itself as an opposing set of forces as opposed to true mimicry. Also ... are you aware you can clone yourself?" he changed the subject.

"What?" I choked.

"Yes. I'm unsure what limitations present themselves and won't be able to tell until you use that particular power, but I'm absolutely sure you can clone yourself right now. Any clue on what the stimuli might be?"

"Hmmm ... kinky sex," I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I get the feeling this will only manifest when my particular sex partner wants it to," I unveiled.

"That is rather rare though not completely unique -- intercourse is a powerful system stimulator."

"Intercourse is a powerful system stimulator?" I chuckled. "That's one way to look at it. What limitations appear to be with this new manifestation?"

"The cloning -- uncertain. The ability to produce new manifestations based on who you touch -- I would conclude due to the minimal amount of data available this is at least a 'Terrestrial' level power, though you appear to have some self-limiting blocks in place ... most likely brought about by your earlier manifestations."

"Because of what my Father did to me growing up?" I hypothesized.

"Current data suggests that to be the case. You have an excessive amount of power dedicated to your long-standing power suite plus your inherent resistances could be tied in as well," Dr. Richard Reeds nodded. "You are not an inherent telekinetic it would appear."

"Yet I'm still accessing those powers while using this new manifestation as well," I informed him ... though he undoubtedly knew that already.

"This deviation from the prime use of the power seems to be the source of the blockage," he told me. "For instance, your impressive mental defensive array is still in effect as well, which would indicate another blockage, or be a product of your half-alien origin."

"Good to know. My stamina ...?"

"No. Your stamina seems to be independent of the primary manifestation, though they might be tied together as a physical indicator of your metahuman formation." That meant to have the power I had, you also had to have an impressive physical stamina. Considering the massive changes my body might have to go through rather rapidly, an astronomical stamina made sense.

"So ... you don't think this is psychic?"

"Ummm ... no. Data suggests this is a complete biological downloading of another person's memories into your brain ... so normal psychic defenses should not work. Likewise, people resistant to bio-manipulations should be more resistant to what you do."

He stopped scanning the data and looked up at me.

"Until I actually see the power in use, this is as far as I'm willing to hypothesize at this time, Reynard," he stated. "Since the power is invasive, I cannot in good faith ask anyone to engage in such an exchange with you either."

"So this power is a 'bad thing'?"

"Power is power, Reynard," he shook his head. "How you use it makes it moralistic. Your power is an invasive intrusion into another person's mind, memories and personality make-up. It has a much greater capacity to be used for "evil" purposes ... if that is what you are looking for."

"It is just I've used it a few times already and I don't have this desire to keep on using it, or to take over the World ... or other such nonsense," I prevaricated.

"But you are thinking about a way to use this to get your Father out of prison ..." he said what I wouldn't.

"Yeah -- pretty much."

"Well, that would be a violation of the law, Reynard," Richard shook his head. "I cannot condone such behavior. Your father -- my friend -- was really and truly guilty of the crimes he was charged with. The sentence was harsh, but within the bounds of modern day jurisprudence."

"He'll never see daylight again," I protested.

"Legal and fair are often two separate things, Reynard," he gave me a sad smile. "... now get out of my office. I have work to do and some people from the UN coming by who want to waste a half-hour of my time."

"Thanks, Richard," I slid off the examination table. I had some rather less noble things to attend to as well.

[BUILDING BLOCKS]

"The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence." - Charles Bukowski

I was at my local villain hangout gym, working on the heavy bag (the specs said it was rated for three tons whereas I normally hit in the 500~800 lbs. range), when I could feel the whole level of comradery drop by several degrees Kelvin. I surreptitiously looked around for the cause and she wasn't hard to find. The thermometer dipper was a majestic Black woman dressed in battle-scarred boots, worn jeans, a white t-shirt and a brown suede leather bomber jacket -- Liberty Lincoln.

Ms. Lincoln was a vigilante working the poorer sections of Megalopolis, championing the otherwise hopeless and downtrodden. Not only did she look tough, she was tough -- certifiably so. That was why she was here too -- rousting the local wildlife ~ your professional toughs, leg-breakers and step-above the norm criminal henchmen.

We all came to the Last Stop Gym and Sports Emporium to get that leg up on the world under the harsh tutelage of Marco 'Ender' Ziegfeld. Ender was a metahuman hitman [Status: Retired] with photographic reflexes & memory. He had taken a mostly successful lethal career sending people on to their final reward and turned it into a 'Thugs finishing school' here in the 'City at the Center of the Universe'.

Now he turned out superior criminal henchmen, professional bouncers at elite underground clubs, and solo criminal low-lives operating in their own right. Liberty showing up was rousting us in our own comfort zone, damn it, and was considered 'hitting below the belt' too. It wasn't like anyone was going to make an issue of it though.

Not only was brawling at the Last Stop frowned on by Ender (a possibly fatal life choice in and of itself), Liberty regularly made mincemeat of anyone not in the top tier of the metahuman world. She was one tough bitch. Besides, it wasn't like I had done anything wrong ... or so I had hoped.

She greeted various club regulars she had a 'history' with -- asking about their various former, or current, infirmities, their loved ones, or personal companions and criminal crew friends. I was spared more than a passing glance.

"Still being good, Rey?"

"Still none of your business, Liberty," I replied like I always did.

I almost missed her slipping a card into my shorts. What the fuck! I did my best to act like nothing had happened for a variety of reasons. Not only was I not one of her snitches, I didn't want anyone to think I might be one -- or worse, one of her helpmates. Not only would such an action make me much less welcome here at the gym -- that kind of reputation could get around -- FAST.

Only after I had hit the showers and was back on the street outside did I check out the little 2"x4" card:

Meet me on the top of the Portland Dynamics Toy Company Building at 10 p.m.

Those few words and nothing more ... like the motivation which could entice me to engage in such an adventure.

So, of course I was going to go ... for reasons which went beyond Liberty's full, blush lips and impressive bust, waist and hip lines. Likewise I couldn't bring Angelheart along to such a shifty, and possibly criminal, encounter. Liberty was a vigilante which implied, while she broke the law, she didn't do it for the profit-motive which drove most of us.

Nah, she broke bones, breaking & entered, and generally terrorized other folks because she believed we were bad people who used such methods as our stock and trade -- thus had it coming. What separated Liberty from your standard grim & humorless hero was she didn't try to disguise her actions behind 'fighting the good fight'. She knew she was using extra-legal means to get her results. She didn't lie about it in the least.

Such a distinction earned her respect among those few lowlifes who didn't absolutely hate her guts -- people like me. That and an excuse to get inside her head were the reasons I was going to show up.

[TEN P.M.]

I wasn't early. I wasn't late. I was right on time as I thought everyone should be. Keeping people waiting was rude. Showing up early was a great way to discover things you didn't want to know -- trust me. Being punctual was a surefire way to let your prospective business partners / romantic interests know you were a reliable guy.

I sent a micro-drone ahead of me to scout out my approach and see what was in store for me when I landed. I picked up three lifeforms -- two metahumans and one augmented human. Of the metahumans -- one was Liberty Lincoln (dressed in her street clothes ~ the same jacket, white t-shirt, jeans and combat boots), the second one was another known vigilante -- Arachne in her usual black bodysuit with stylized red spider design on the front and back. The augmented human was an unknown -- not in my current database -- in a white hoodie, jeans faded to white, white high-tops and a white bandana ... with an encircled <|> in black spray-painted on the back of the hoodie.

Someone tried to get cute with their hijacking of my microwave feed from the drone ... piggy-backing on my signal to get a fix on me as well as see what I was seeing. I put the drone on an automatic search pattern then altered my angle of approach to the specified rooftop.

Today, in my true premier as a villain, I came packing all the accessories I could currently muster. Namely, an old battlesuit of my Father's I'd altered to fit my frame and updated to the times. The latter didn't take much doing as 'Dad' had been way ahead of his time nearly a decade ago when they finally managed to capture him and put him away ... for good ... perhaps.

Anyway, I had full body armor except for my 'face shield' -- a transparent piece of lighter protection which covered my lips and upper chin -- and the lower part of my fingertips on each gauntlet -- so I could make skin to skin contact to activate my 'secret power'.

Given more time I was going to create a reactive covering for my fingers so they wouldn't be so vulnerable. The face shield was so I could speak clearly and so people could see my facial expressions. Otherwise my battlesuit was an unremarkable dull grey. I wore no insignia ... yet. I was working on something, but hadn't finalized my designs before this 'grenade' was tossed in my lap.

"Hello," I began, "someone is trying to electronically eavesdrop on this little gathering. Thought you all would want to know."

Arachne looked to Liberty.

"It's okay. That would be another member of this team," she did the minimal bit of explaining.

"Who would that be and I didn't say anything about joining any team," I put the kibosh on the reason for this meeting, if that was it.

"Who are you?" Arachne studied me. For the time being, the fourth member of this crew was remaining silent. I wasn't sure why.

"He's Dark Son," Liberty answered for me, "and he's the muscle I promised you."

"I've never heard of this guy," she turned to Liberty. "Is he going to be tough enough?"

"Web Slinger thinks so," Liberty grinned.

Whoa now!

Okay, for starters, Arachne was an established Megalopolis vigilante going back about a decade. She -- and Arachne was definitely a she as her skin-tight suit attested -- was a female, 5'9" and roughly 145 lbs. ~ svelte and tightly muscled. She fought local super-powered criminal lowlifes with the occasional crossover with other super-teams. She was wanted by the law for various offenses as well.

Web Slinger ... was an Urban Legend for those who hadn't actually met the mysterious internet entity. Usually a friend of a friend's aunt / brother / cousin met the guy / girl on-line and did said entity a favor for a favor, but no one until right now had ever really interacted with said anarchistic being.

What was 'known' was Web Slinger championed the individual / 'Little Guy' against the forces of Big Government and Corporate Greed. Even ANTIFA was too organized (and too political) for this guy / girl to work with. No reliable group I knew of could claim to have worked with the real Web Slinger ... the Lone Ranger / Last Jedi of the World Wide Web.

"The shit you say," I scoffed. "Do you actually believe the Web Slinger is real?"

"Never met the person in the flesh, but I have met enough of their electron feed to imagine I'm working with the legit entity right now," Liberty Lincoln defied my skepticism.

"I believe her," the stranger finally spoke. She was a mousy brunette with furtive brown eyes which held a fanatic's gleam.

"And who are you?" I wondered.

"Lucky Dead," she offered up her hand to shake. Oh ... the <|> was a stylized 'L' and 'D'.

I don't recommend shaking the hand of random, unknown super-type. It is a good way to get your hand crushed, or your psyche taken over. While I wasn't worried about either of those two events happening, there were still a host of other shit 'Lucky Dead' could do to me which could really fuck me up, so I declined.

"She's new," Arachne chuckled, "and apparently you're not."

"I make up for a lack of real world experience by being raised in an asylum for the criminally insane," I grinned.

"Really?" Lucky Dead withdrew her proffered appendage.

"No," Liberty chuckled. "He's Baron Bedlam's son ... and don't ask how I came about that gem of information, Dark Son."

"Fine," my smile turned upside down. "What am I doing here?"

"Are you up for a little villainy?" Liberty posed, her hands on her hips suggestively.

"Everyone starts somewhere," I shrugged.

"We need to steal something ..." followed by a long pause.

"From who?" I waited.

"From Kori Ivankov," her grin became positively predatory.

"Kalashnikov Kori?" I looked for confirmation. She nodded. "The head of the Russian Mafia on the East Coast of the United States -- that Kori Ivankov?"

"Yes," Lucky Dead grew angry. "Don't tell me you are afraid of that normie!"

"I don't have anyone I love who can't take care of themselves, so I'm only mildly worried about that monster of a mobster," I regarded her skeptically. "The man is without remorse and never forgets a slight."

"I heard you were sort of fearless," Liberty's smile lost all its warmth.

"There is fearlessness and then there is stupidly brave," I shook my head. "Plus, my records show Mr. Ivankov to be a metahuman ... just one who can't be normally detected ... which is a neat gift in and of itself."

"What?" Liberty lost some of her arrogant poise. "What does he do?"

"I don't know. I do know my Father used an alternate way -- beyond the ken of my understanding -- to detect metahumans ... and his scan revealed Ivankov to be a metahuman."

"Well, that shoves a monkey wrench in the spanner," Arachne frowned. Now everyone was frowning.

"We've got to do this," Lucky Dead turned to Arachne, pleading.

"The window on this is limited," Liberty added. "We either go tomorrow, or the opportunity passes."

"Fine, what are we going to do -- and don't say 'kidnap him', please," I relaxed enough to ratchet down the tension a degree, or two.

"No, we are going to steal something from him -- something he values," Arachne revealed.

"What would that be?" I inquired.

"The fewer people who know the specifics, the better off the rest of you are," Liberty intervened. I didn't like the sound of that.

"I'm not into kidnapping," I let her know.

"Good to know. Besides, the Code of Thieves doesn't allow for family, or didn't you know that?"

"Rules one and two," I acknowledged I too knew the Russian Code of Thieves. "That doesn't mean they cannot have any 'bi-blows' though (aka bastard offspring)."

"Then you know you have nothing to worry about," she curtailed that part of our discussion.

"You fuck me over this ...," I half-threatened.

"You'll what, College-Boy?" she got in my face.

"Fuck me over badly enough and I'll kill you," I promised. In that moment I owned I was Baron Bedlam's son and he would have never let such a slight pass without demanding payment in blood.

"You think you can?" her eyes narrowed. Really nice deep brown eyes too.

"Are we are going to find out?" I leaned in until our noses were only a few centimeters apart.

There was another long pause.

"I like your grit. You don't play around," she grinned. "Still, if you cross the line in my neighborhood we are going to find out just how tough you really are."

"Was that really necessary?" Arachne came our way.

"Yeah ... yeah, it was," Liberty nodded. "See, unlike the rest of us, Dark Son here is one of the Bad Guys and he's only helping us out for the pay day -- nothing more."

"Oh," from Lucky Dead.

"Seriously?" Arachne tilted my chin her way. "Kori Ivankov is one bad dude and needs to be taken down a peg, or two."

"Kori Ivankov is one bad dude and is going to come gunning for anyone attached to this job," I corrected her assertion. "I'm not sure how we can take him down a peg, or two, when I don't even know what is to be stolen."

"He stole from me first," Lucky Dead moped. I gazed passed Arachne seeking more so she added, "He stole my girlfriend -- a human trafficking ring of his."

"I suggest you get over it and find a new paramour," I advised.

"He stole my pain and I'm going to give him all that and more until he gives me my girlfriend back!"

"What is your superpower again?" I asked of Lucky Dead.

"I'm immortal."

"Good for you. Some of us aren't though and should take into account our limited lifespan."

"Lucky isn't exactly immortal," Arachne explained. "She creates a new body when her old one is killed. She remembers everything about being killed though -- including the pain ... and she is still willing to go ahead with this."

"Let's cut through all the moralizations and get down to it -- how much am I going to get out of this?"

"Everything else in his safe room that you can carry," Liberty Lincoln offered. "Everything except the one thing we are after."

"And that would be?" I poked again.

"I'm not telling you," she responded.

"If that 'thing' is the only thing in that room, you won't be able to tell just how angry I will be," I grumbled.

"Threat acknowledged," she nodded once more.

"No, that's a promise ... otherwise, I'm in," I said in a lighter, more positive tone.

"Really?" Arachne appeared surprised.

"Yeah. If I'm going to start making a name for myself, I might as well start it here and now," I stated. "This theft sounds like it will be epic -- even with the promised backlash. Plus, I get the feeling this won't be reported as a crime."

"That bothers you?" Arachne asked.

"Yes. My current situation would become much more complicated if I was to become a wanted man."

"But the CAA (Costumed Actors Act of 1952) protects your secret identity ... whatever that is -- and I'm not inquiring," Arachne pointed out.

"Good to know. Kori Ivankov won't care though ... nor will other people in our lives," I sighed. Yeah, breaking my first law would be tough on Angelheart. The Clusterfuck in Sudan didn't count because she didn't know me then. Even if this became another 'No (Reported) Harm -- No (Legitimate) Foul' things would be different. I was merely putting off the inevitable, though if I used this as an excuse to not take part of this madness I knew I would again.

"What kind of opposition are we expecting -- besides the army of goons?" I pushed ahead with this madness.

"Besides said army of goons and the five, or six metahumans Arachne and I can deal with ... Stunner is expected to be there as well," Liberty Lincoln dropped the hammer. Stunner was an 'A'-class elite metahuman mercenary.

"You guys think I can take on Stunner?" I grunted.

"Not really," she gave me a sly smile, "but Web Slinger does and I'm going with his / her information on you anyway."

"If you don't think you can keep Stunner occupied, let us know now," Arachne added.

"I've never fought her (Stunner was a gal), but I'm willing to give it a shot. Besides, I've got to take her out before I can get away with my share of the loot, right?" I mused. "It is about time I put my abilities to the test."

"Don't let us down, Big Boy," Lincoln taunted me, "or it is all our asses on the line."

"I won't (let y'all down). Now where and when is this job going down?"

"In about three hours," Liberty informed me, "at his main crib uptown."

"I thought you said it went down tomorrow?" I grew hostile.

"Three hours from now is tomorrow," she gave me a toothsome smile.

"Fuck a duck," I ground out. "Fine ..."

"We weren't' sure you would betray us, or not," said Arachne.

"Are the rest of you ready?"

"As we will ever be," Luck Dead gave a rictus grin of her own as she foisted up a duffel bag full of what I assumed were firearms.

"A bag full of guns and three dames on a mission," I ruminated. What could possibly go wrong?

[RIGHT, WRONG AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN]

The event which was distracting the majority of our opposition was a celebratory bash ... celebrating prematurely Kori Ivankov winning a 'laundry list of crimes' case against him which all boiled down to the prosecution's star witness refusing to testify against him. Just after 1 a.m. we ghosted in through his rooftop sensors and raided his penthouse safe room. It was all perfect going in, but somehow Web Slinger failed to counteract one of the failsafe alarms and security plus Stunner was fast on her way as we were breaking into the safe room itself.

I HAD STRUCK GOLD!

Gold and silver goblets full of gems, flash drives with who knows what kind of data on them, antiques and paintings were all in evidence. I didn't even have to worry about what the other three had come for. It was ... the cat.

Or what was presumed to be a cat. My sensors indicated -- once they worked passed its screens -- it was some sort of unidentified alien life form disguised as a cat. I let the others know of this as I pocketed all the goodies into an extra-dimensional space. My haul, provided I survived, was going to be worth millions -- check that -- tens of millions. Every second it took them to corral this demon beast from the Abyss was worth a fortune to me.

"Help us out here," an exasperated Liberty called over to me.

"Not part of the plan," I shot back.

"They're almost here," Lucky Dead called from the main room.

"How close?" Arachne asked only to be met by the sound of gunfire. Lucky Dead had been engaged. Seconds later, a grenade went off. Lucky, it seemed, had brought her own back-up.

Two missing Dutch Masters went into the pouch when I heard the crackle of electricity. It was my time to take part in the festivities. Oh well, the Van Gogh would just have to wait.

"A little help here ...," Lucky Dead trailed off as I stepped out. The goons and Lucky backed off as the two Major League metahumans faced one another.

"I don't know who you are, but you have three seconds to flee before I incinerate your ass," Stunner greeted me. She was floating off the ground, her brunette hair with golden highlights floating about her in a static fog. Her blue and yellow bodysuit was visible under the tuxedo she had probably been in the process of removing up until now.

"The name's Dark Son ... with an 'o'," I got off when she decided I'd had my three seconds and opted to act stupid instead. I was inches away from being turned into a briquette as I dodged right. I fired off a foam-dispensing micro-rocket which she foolishly batted aside. The foam went everywhere, momentarily blinding her. What I did next was not for the lighthearted, or nigh-invulnerable -- I grappled with her.

Right off the bat I was seared by her electrified force field. OUCH! Hell, I screamed out it hurt so bad. I did manage to both stay conscious and make that all important skin contact though. The exchange when through and I felt my physiology begin to morph just in time. She flew back perhaps three feet and gave me both fists -- twin bolts of lightning rolling through me, body and soul.

For a moment there was a slight pain and then I felt energized. Super-energized in fact. I could now absorb electrical energy it seemed. It made me stronger, faster and even allowed my telekinesis to reach out beyond touch-range. Having been knocked down, I stood back up and was instantly taken in by two lassos of solidified electrical energy -- one around my waist and the other around my neck.

"Okay, Stupid," she mocked me. "That stunt failed and I'm about to turn your pathetic armored suit into so much slag. Any last words?"

"My, you are pretty when you are angry," I coughed. I was still getting over my first run-in with her force field.

"Thank you -- now its lights out," and the electricity in the bindings began coursing through the tendrils and into my body. I shook and twitched for the viewing audience. I really wanted to get too strong for the rest of the goons to possibly hurt.

"Dark Son -- NO!" Arachne didn't understand what was going on and came to my rescue.

Like me, she discovered a second too late Stunner's force field was damaging. Still, she managed to knock all three of us down. I was the first to rise, having suffered no further damage. Arachne was as strong as a human-sized spider so only Stunner was momentarily stunned. Her force field was also still intact, if somewhat weakened, which was a blessing in and of itself because the moment they had a clear shot, the goons opened fire.

I was sprayed with lead in multiple calibers ... with no discernible effect. Seeing some wack-job about to fire off a grenade launcher in these enclosed circumstances, I did my best to shield Arachne's body. Lucky Dead was too far away and behind some makeshift cover anyway.

The room exploded in flames, smoke and chaos.

"I'm okay," a wobbly Arachne mumbled to me.

"I've got the damn cat!" screamed a triumphant Liberty from the safe room. It was time for us to get out of here then. The sprinkler system registered the flames and doused the room in flame retardant foam, immediately clearing out the smoke so now we could all see each other.

Stunner rose up, looking so fucking pissed off and a real mess. She gave me both barrels again, knocking me back over the sofa. As I rolled to a standing position, I saw Lucky Dead ... with a huge section of the glass top table sticking out of her chest. Not so 'lucky' anymore it seemed. Oh fucking well, I had to worry about the members of my team who could still be extracted.

I knelt by the sofa and telekinetically slammed it back in Stunner's direction. Her body's shields cut it in two, but the two halves swept up most of the goons as it propelled itself, and everything else, back towards the elevators. There ... my powers just ... failed. Through the foam, with a whole new cadre of muscle, was Kalashnikov Kori himself. OH FUCK!

Stunner was the next one to feel his effects. As Ivankov advanced, her powers flickered then failed. The guy was a fucking 'Null' ~ a metahuman who negated the powers of other metahumans. Stunner had been alternating bolts between the entrance of the safe room, keeping Liberty pinned inside, and making Arachne dodge for her life. As her bolts failed, we had a minute window to escape.

And then Kalashnikov concentrated on me. I felt wobbly and somewhat nauseated. Next, Arachne stumbled and crashed into a bookshelf ... which then fell on her. Now normally she would have never made such a misstep -- being as nimble as she was, and if she had she would have had the strength to immediately be back up. She wasn't getting right back up. Instead ...

"Help ..."

"Oh shit," I muttered. He could project his 'Null' powers as well as use them in a field centered on himself. Only Liberty seemed immune, but then her powers were strictly physical.

"Kill them," Kori demanded of his underlings in his thick Russian accent.

"Liberty, get down," I screamed in her direction.

She did, but a bit belatedly as I saw her get clipped in the left triceps by a bullet. She was bleeding.

As for myself, I was in an armored suit which afforded me some protection. Seeing my temporary resistance, Kori and three other metahumans came my way. I could already see their play. The second the head of the Russian Mafia (US East Coast) dropped that field, the three would pound me flat. It was a good plan. I would have used it had I been in his situation.

The only flaw in it was I was not totally suppressed. Apparently my power was rated higher than his ability to nullify it which gave me some unforeseen (by him) options. To get things rolling I lunged into them before they got to me. I was a lot stronger than I ought to have been, thanks to Stunner. I broke the jaw of one super-goon before Kori dropped the nullification shield. He shouldn't have done that because it made my next move even easier.

I got hold of him even as his master-craft Sambo (a Russian martial art) came into play. The exchange took place and ... he was stunned for all of a second. It was a crucial second because it allowed me to mimic what he did. I negated him and his cronies before he could suppress me and my allies.

I didn't go for the field affect, concentrating solely on Ivankov. Now normally Ivankov was bulletproof (among other things) so when his confederates opened up on the two of us KNOWING their boss was immune to their damage they had no idea they were actually attempting to murder him. He got riddled ... really, really bad. He would never look quite the same even if he somehow managed to live.

Cursing in Russian followed when they realized the depth of their mistake. I dropped the bloody ragdoll I'd been holding and looked over the rest who now regarded me with some degree of horror.

"You are going to be a long time dying ... for that," muttered Stunner, despite her treatment from her boss moments ago.

"Are you trying to convince me to kill you now?" I shot back full of bravado. She tried to summon forth some electricity so I shut her down.

"What did you do to me?" she worried.

"Do I just kill you now, or do you want to quit this fiasco?" I growled. Behind me Arachne and Liberty were putting themselves back together and gathering up ... Lucky Dead?

Stunner looked over the dismay and disarray of her companions, weighed my intent and abilities against what she couldn't do then factored in the paycheck she might not be getting anymore if Kori Ivankov was actually dead. Even factoring in his mood if he was still alive wasn't coming out good for her.

"No ... I think you and I are done," she bowed her head ever so slightly.

"Good to know," I acknowledged then backed up with the rest of my team. The Russians were following after us, giving us room yet not willing to simply surrender the day quite yet so I had to ferry everyone across to the next building after which we ran around to the far side and used Arachne's webbing to escape further downtown.

Already sirens were wailing away, but we were moving away from their locus of activity. We'd let the uncooperative Russians stonewall the cops while we made our escape into the Bricks (Brocton). Once back on top of the Toy Company ...

"Why is Luck Dead naked ... and why did we leave a clone of her behind?" were the first words out of my mouth -- post escape.

"That is how her immortality works. She creates a new body out of the Aether, leaving her old body behind. It melts and eventually evaporates so it doesn't leave any DNA behind," Arachne told me even as she brought forth a back-pack from a hidey-hole. Somewhat abashed, Luck Dead began to dress in her new clothes ~ just like the old clothes.

"Well, you did your job alright," Liberty extended her hand to me.

I shook it.

"I aim to be a man of my word."

"Would you have killed Stunner if she came after us?" Arachne worried.

"She'll never know and neither will you," I smirked. "What matters is I was able to convince her, sans violence, that it wasn't in her best interest to pursue us ... and that's what matters."

"Killing people matters."

"They killed 'Lucky'," I pointed out. "In general, those men were killers and Stunner has been known to leave a corpse, or two, in her wake."

"I don't kill," Arachne pledged.

"I don't live by that Code," I replied. "If someone crosses me, they had better make their final arrangements."

"But you risked everything for us -- took on all those mobsters," Arachne tried to understand my soul.

"You didn't hire me to try and do my best. You hired me to do my best," I explained. "I'm not someone who 'tries'. Tonight that meant I took on everyone who came at us ... and I did. After all, I'm also not the kind of guy who leaves his partners in the lurch while I flee the scene. I was brought on to get everyone out and I did. Had I failed, none of us would be having this discussion because I would most likely be dead ... and you all would have been captured."

"But we weren't captured because you stood up," Liberty Lincoln smiled at me. "You may be a hard-ass, but you have your own Code of Conduct you choose to live by too. I can live with that."

"Well ... you aren't going to make a habit of kill folks, are you?" Arachne plied me.

"No. 'Me' having to kill people will have meant something went horribly wrong, or people didn't take me at my word. I have no plans to become a hitman, if that is what you are worried about."

"Can we call on you for help again?" Arachne touched my arm.

"You mean off the clock and for free?" I studied her. Despite her mask I could tell she was a bit crestfallen.

"Yeah."

"Sure. I don't have a lot of friends so I would be stupid to be turning my back on anyone at the genesis of my career. I'm not sure how we do the whole 'contact' thing. I don't really have a villain's switchboard set up yet. Maybe Liberty, or Web Slinger, can figure out how to get in touch with me if you are really in need."

"I'm sure Web Slinger can find you if they have to," Liberty agreed. "Okay. I need to get the cat to the proper authorities," she added and made her way to the closest rooftop access to the building. Sure, she could jump off the roof, but there was no telling how the cat would take it. Arachne had to take Lucky Dead ... somewhere ... and that left me ... all by my lonesome. I had somewhere to be too.

[THE BALANCE OF TERROR]

I had a bound and blindfolded Skye (aka Angelheart) on all fours on my bed, pounding her from behind, one hand holding her golden locks like reins and the other putting hand prints on her luscious behind when I felt a proximity sensor go off. Damn it all, I was having some good sex here!

My lover had her own set of internal alarms to let her know if someone was getting close. If she hadn't been blindfolded, as she was now, she could have made out heat emanations and people's life energy.

"Reynard," she gasped, "what is it?"

"Damn it! We've got company and it could mean ... business," I revealed as I pulled out of her slick vaginal embrace.

"Business?" she rolled onto her side, bringing her bound hands up to partially remove her blindfold.

"Yeah, I've been bad," I grumped.

"Anything I need to know about?" she worried.

"I hope not. It if is, I will need to find a particular someone -- or some-ones," I growled -- meaning Liberty Lincoln and through her, Web Slinger. I produced a knife and quickly sliced away at her wrist bindings.

"We'll deal with this together," she pledged.

"No. You go home and let me deal with this myself," I frowned. This was some damn good sex I was going without after all.

"Please, Reynard ..."

"No. Get dressed and go home. I'll call you when this clears up," I insisted. She shot me worried eyes as she put her clothes back on.

She wasn't moving fast enough for my tastes so I spanked her flank a good one to hurry her on her way. My visitor waited until she had taken off flying from the window into the night sky before knocking on my door. How nice of them ...

I scanned the cameras watching the hallway and got a surprise. It was the Night Watchman blessing my stoop at sunrise.

I opened the door and ushered him in.

"Come on in. You know you've ruined 'date night', right?"

"One of many for you two," he rasped. "We need to talk."

"About what?" I feigned innocence despite the man before me breaking down deceptions by punks like me every day for the past two decades.

"Kori Ivankov ..." Long pause.

"Russian mobster," I answered.

"Someone, or a group of some-ones, put him in the morgue this evening," the Night Watchman informed me.

"Oh, he's dead?" I sounded upbeat. "How did that happen?"

"Yeah ... he's dead," NW eye's swept over my place. "Seems he got shot ... a whole lot."

"I don't use guns."

"I didn't say he was shot by a gun, or any number of guns," he tried to trap me.

"I don't use blasters either," I grinned.

"Wise-ass," he chuckled. "From what I've been able to piece together, Liberty Lincoln went over to his penthouse to retrieve a pet cat to get his former girlfriend to testify against him -- a happenstance now made redundant by his death -- because the former girlfriend and the cat were ... close."

"Well, good for her. Kori was a real nightmare of a mobster. He won't be missed. Liberty doesn't use guns either, or so I've been told."

"It seems she went in with Arachne and a young sidekick named 'Lucky Dead' ... plus one as of yet unidentified fourth party ... by the name of Dark Son."

"And you think I'm somehow involved -- that fourth person? Got any proof?"

"No physical evidence and it isn't like my sources would stand up in a court of law ... but I know it was you, Reynard Haven," his gaze turned piercing and lethal.

"Beyond some heartfelt desire to pin some crime on me, what makes you think it was me?" I grinned.

For sure both Liberty Lincoln and Arachne had cooperated with the Night Watchman in the past, but I didn't get the feeling they would have turned on me to this joker this fast. I hadn't done anything to break their faith in me after all, and until I did, they could be relied on to keep silent about my involvement in this Criminal Underworld disaster.

"What makes you think there isn't some video somewhere which puts you at the scene of the crime?" his gravelly voice insinuated the worry into my mind.

'The Web Slinger,' I thought. I was keeping that thought to myself too.

"You know something I don't know, but I tell you right now -- I will find out exactly what happened."

"You ... good luck with that, Night Watchman," I glared hate right back. "Besides, what's got you so pissed off? The fact I might have committed a crime outside of your ever present gaze, or that someone beat you to Kalashnikov Kori?"

There was a pregnant pause as the Night Watchman ordered his thoughts.

"Is this some game to you?" he rasped.

"No. I do not now nor have I ever wanted to be a criminal kingpin in this city," I was confused by this latest tact.

"Good, because you have no idea what is going on here, or the hell you, Liberty and Arachne have unleashed."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Ivankov was a necessary evil, Haven. He kept the balance of terror in this burg. Within his Code, he was something we could handle," NW reasoned out for me.

"Have fun explaining that to Lucky Dead," I slipped up.

"So you know of that fruitcake," he pounced.

"Sure I do ~ a crazy-cakes looking for her missing girlfriend. Who hasn't heard of her by now?" I fibbed.

"You are a horribly liar."

"You are just seeking to trip me up somehow," I countered.

"I only trip up the guilty," his glare pierced me.

"I think you are obsessed with finding me guilty of something," I riposted.

"Perhaps, but it is only because I don't want you bringing Angelheart down with you when you do inevitably screw up."

"I can't wait for you to have the discussion with her about how Kori Ivankov was necessary for ... what did you call it ...?"

"The balance of terror," he reminded me.

"Yeah -- that."

"Well, she's going to see firsthand the cost of what you and those other amateurs did," he grumbled. "People are going to start dropping dead all over this city because of Kori Ivankov's murder. This is going to have far-ranging, insidious effects. Every innocent who gets killed in this upcoming Mob War ..."

"Yeah, and innocent people will get caught in the crossfire -- I get it. I'm telling you right now -- I didn't kill Kori Ivankov."

"Who did?"

"What did he die of?" I inquired.

"Now you are playing at junior detective?"

"No, but common sense is common sense."

"Fine -- death by multiple calibers according to the M.E.," the Night Watchman informed me.

"I suggest he was gunned down by his own men ... probably sick of that whole 'terror' thing you were talking about," I theorized.

"Except he was immune to small arms fire," NW let me know.

"I thought he was a 'normie'," I shrugged.

"Someone negated his powers apparently," he said both so much and nothing at all.

"That's not something I do either," I grinned. "I beat people up -- I'm real strong ya know."

"Oh, I think you are full of surprises, Dark Son."

"I neither confirm nor deny that identity ... as is my right," I kept smiling.

"You are not as clever, or entertaining, as you think you are."

"I know that too. You are simply stomping on my good times so I feel justified in annoying the crap out of you whenever I can," I let him know.

"She (Skye) will get over this infatuation with you in time," he riposted.

"If you thought so, you wouldn't be making a habit of darkening my doorway," I volleyed.

He paused for a few seconds then ...

"Touche," he acknowledged I'd gotten one up on him. He really was worried about Skye and her relationship with me.

"Now if you could get passed me being Baron Bedlam's son, we might be able to find some common ground -- such as Skye's happiness," I offered up an olive branch.

"Not going to happen," he shook his head ever so slightly. "You are a bad guy and eventually you will fuck up enough for her to see that."

"She knows I'm the 'Bad Guy' in this little drama ... and she doesn't care," I snorted. "That's your problem."

"That's OUR problem," he rasped. "You should be man enough to let her go -- drive her away if necessary ... but you are not."

"Are you saying I don't care for her?"

"No. I'm saying she cares about you a hell of a lot more than you care about her though," his eyes bore into my soul. "You should see there is not future in this relationship for her and let her go."

"You got me there," I turned away, feeling terribly guilty all of a sudden. "I know definitely where my career path will take me and that will cause Angelheart no end of grief ... but I can't simply let her go, or drive her away. It isn't as simple as you make it out to be."

"Oh ... a pang of conscience. I admit I didn't expect that from you. Not this early."

"My form of villainy doesn't have me fucking over my friends, Night Watchman," I rationalized. "I fact, it is all about loyalty ... no matter what the cost."

"So, you really are going to get your Dad out of prison ...," NW trailed off.

"Am I that transparent?" I turned back toward him.

"You had to know the real Baron Bedlam to know the effect he had on people," he mused. "He inspired a level of devotion you don't see much outside of cults of personality. Even without the cult apparatus, he could get people to sacrifice their lives for his goals. It is sad to see you going down that same road."

"Spare me your pity," I scoffed. "I don't need it."

"You need help, Kid," he shook his head. "Either psychologically, or logistically. Either you will get over this sick devotion to your father, or you will get him out and see for yourself what a bastard he could be."

"I don't need anyone else in my mind," I smirked. "As for the logistics ... I'll make sure to keep you informed of my progress so you can continue to critique my efforts and provide me with sage advice as needed."

"Now you are back to being a smart-ass," he snorted. "Neither as clever nor as insightful as you wish to be."

"No -- I just want you gone. I'd hope for the rest of my life, but I'll settle for the 'here and now' of you leaving for the rest of the even- ... morning," I noted the dawn was upon us.

"We'll talk again," the Night Watchman turned to leave.

I had this insane impulse to attack him from behind then I realized it was all just a lure. I had no real advantage over the man despite the way he presented himself ... and I was smart enough to realize it. He walked over to the door and left my abode without further comment. I didn't hear him go down the hall, or take the stairs. He was just ... gone.

It also dawned on me Angelheart had realized it was the Night Watchman at my door ~ all life patterns being as specific as fingerprints, or so she believed. She had wanted to stick around to intercede when things got rough between me and the Old Man. She still didn't realize I saved my rage for the moments I was alone -- training.

I had too much to do in my real life to give into such dark impulses. I had one chance to get my Father out of Super-super-max. If I botched it, or made some mistake putting my plan together, that was it ... his last chance at freedom ... and I wasn't going to do that to the Old Bastard. Once he was free, I would be free of him -- once and for all!

[END OF CHAPTER ONE]

Vigilantes and Mercenaries

Arachne ~ [Secret ID: Suzi Park] "Terrorist threat, or Metahuman menace" ~ (stupendous leaping ability, sticks to surfaces and incredible strength & agility plus vomits forth webbing) -- Secret Identity -- South Korean-American female independent journalist. She is a good person with a serious PR problem due to her being hounded by the Rupert Murdoch's of this world.

Ender ~ [Real name: Unknown] -- Goes by the name Marco Ziegfeld. A 'retired' metahuman hitman who now runs a gymnasium for both up-and-coming metahumans as well as 'normie' henchmen (to make them a cut above your normal thug). His powers include photographic memory & reflexes plus extreme levels of agility and accuracy. He is exceedingly skilled in virtually every martial art and weapon known to man as well.

Liberty Lincoln ~ [yes, Liberty Lincoln is her actual name] ~ modest metahuman abilities plus superior senses and martial artist) -- female Black Private Detective who protects the poor and downtrodden in her part of town. She is also renowned through the metahuman world as an honest seeker of justice and hard-boiled gum-shoe.

Lucky Dead ~ [Secret Identity: Zill Wilson] ~ her metahuman power is after she is killed she creates a living clone who carries on (the original body slowly dissolves). She is a vigilante struggling to solve the kidnapping of her girlfriend (Karen Kane). Girlfriend was kidnapped due to her work with journalist Suzi Park aka Arachne. Currently at war with the Russian Mafia as well as a nation-wide slavery ring. Often works with Arachne and Liberty Lincoln. Is secretly into hardcore BDSM. "Pain is my Mistress," with 'Pain' being her nickname for Karen. Unbeknownst to her, Lucky's powers are demonic in origin.

Stunner ~ [Public Identity: Deidre O'Donnell] -- Dazzling good looks plus electrical manipulation powers -- mercenary bodyguard -- she has plenty of stunts off her electrical manipulation including levitation, shock shield, and teleportation via lightning bolt.

Web Slinger ~ [Real name: unknown] -- is an internet vigilante who uses superhuman computing ability to help anarchistic and anti-corruption activists around the globe. Not only do they have metahuman abilities which effect the World Wide Web, they can create illusions using network bandwidth and channel electronic currents in dangerous, or amusing, ways. The 'gunslinger' of the Web.

Power Levels

Negligible -- Less than One-Eighth Human Capacity

Subpar -- Less than Half of Human Capacity

Baseline -- Basic Human level (as an example: lifting 50 kg)

Superior -- More than Twice Human Capacity

Olympic -- More than Five times Human Capacity

Superhuman -- More than Ten times Human Capacity

Incredible -- More than Twenty-five times Human capacity

Spectacular -- More than Fifty times Human capacity

Amazing -- More than One Hundred times Human capacity

Tier I -- Abilities which can effect several city blocks

Tier II -- Abilities which can effect an entire city

Tier III -- Abilities which can effect an entire county

Continental -- Abilities which can effect some portion of a continent

Terrestrial -- Abilities which can effect some portion of the Globe

Nova -- Planet-spanning abilities

Super-nova -- Solar System-spanning abilities

Interstellar -- Star-spanning abilities

Galaxy -- Galaxy-spanning abilities

[END]